Last week's #seminaryslides were impressively awful. Can you spot the hidden words in the first one?
Monday, October 29, 2012
Thursday, October 25, 2012
start doing
Instead of talking about telling the world about the message of rest and peace our church wishes to share I'm happy to share an article from a colleague and friend bringing attention to the power of the Sabbath.
Washington Post: Sabbath
Washington Post: Sabbath
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Monday, October 15, 2012
This is an actual email sent to the "Women's Clergy Network" of the seminary. I wish I was joking. You can't make this stuff up. I still can't believe it's real...
Just when you thought that "Woman, go make me a sandwich" had become something most people only said jokingly, the Seminary is here to remind us that gender stereotypes are alive and well. For some reason the fact that it's not just any food, but sandwiches in particular, makes it worse. Here's to hoping some men's group will be asked to make sandwiches for the next event and this was all a misunderstanding on my part.
Hi, ladies!
The "Women's Clergy Network" participants have been asked if they could
assist in preparing sandwiches for Sunday morning, October 28th for the
refreshments that afternoon.
Just when you thought that "Woman, go make me a sandwich" had become something most people only said jokingly, the Seminary is here to remind us that gender stereotypes are alive and well. For some reason the fact that it's not just any food, but sandwiches in particular, makes it worse. Here's to hoping some men's group will be asked to make sandwiches for the next event and this was all a misunderstanding on my part.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Entitled
Finish, then, Thy new creation;
Pure and spotless let us be;
Let us see Thy great salvation
Perfectly restored in Thee:
Changed from glory into glory,
Till in heaven we take our place,
Till we cast our crowns before Thee,
Lost in wonder, love, and praise.
Love Divine SDA Hymnal #191
Shortly after Chapel had commenced, the screen above the pulpit flashed a slide featuring a brief biography of the day's service provider. This week we were privileged to have a Music Director leading us in a medley of hymnal staples in lieu of a sermon-based service. His bio included his Doctorate studies as well as his official title of Pastor as he was attached to a local church through his music ministry. After briefly running through a very brief introduction to the order of the alternative service, he retreated to the organ as the church rose to its feet. And there we sang the hymn above.
In a room filled nearly to capacity with students plucked from the mission field across the world, all singing these words in unison to God above in praise. While there is nothing out of the ordinary about this scene, there is something strange about the moment outside of that which is visible or auditory. It is the presence that is a bit off, and it would not surprise me to find that I am the only one feeling this sensation in the room.
I'm not so sure we are understanding what we are singing out to God.
It was as I sang the last verse that it hit me, we are emotionally tuned to this familiar melody and reading the words directly off of the page, but there is a disconnect between what we are saying and what it is we are all doing. If we were sincere with our tuned words of praise, then what's keeping us from acting it out as well? A fellow contributor to this blog once volunteered as a choir director and explained a very similar sentiment in the following way, "If we are going to sing about our hands lifted high, we should be lifting our hands."
The choir sounded fine, the harmonies were flowing, and the church was standing in unison, but suddenly were all singing out instructions. Except no one was following the words as they arrived at our lips. I imagined for a moment a group of people singing the Hokey Pokey stock still but hitting all of the right notes along the way.
If we are to be looking forward to a day when we cast aside our crowns, our accolades, our earthly possessions, and our individualism, then what in the world are we doing beginning every service by naming the people in the room who have a degree in Theology? To introduce a person with the title of "pastor" in a room full of pastors makes very little sense. The title of pastor is a distinction best suited to provide a classification of formal settings of a religious nature as needed. But suddenly the title of pastor is being passed out to people to impress and flaunt. But when seated in a room where God has been invited to sit in on the service, our titles don't seem to hold much weight. Especially when singing out about casting out crowns with the desire to turn earthly glory into heavenly recognition, restored, pure and without spot.
For such a loud noise speaking out otherwise, we sure do seem to enjoy our spotted crowns.
There is a basic assumption that everyone in the Seminary is a Christian and a devoted member to the Gospel message. While not everyone in the room has been graced with Conference badging and not everyone has been working as the head of a church. But when a majority of the room fits the exact same category as one another, it's like walking into a crowded medical symposium in a conference hall and saying "Doctor?" out loud. Not everyone will crane their head around, but when almost everyone does turn around, it's time to be more specific.
I believe that the direction of specificity is best suited in the informal direction. I think as a group, we can all accept that anyone designated for public speaking at the pulpit for Chapel is an important person and qualified for the service in whatever regards they are placed. And if the qualification is not in question, then I believe that their first name alone is perfectly acceptable as an introduction. No need to announce that they have a degree, have worked in a church, or had a job in the mission field. You can come as you are; crowns cast aside. And from there, you can bring the word of God with you as a woman or as a man with a vision. And that will always be good enough.
Let us leave the world of credibility in the academic world if only for a moment and instead let the holy word of Adonai be lifted as the crown. Let us see the title of God be lifted higher than everything else. Let us follow the words of God's children because they lead to God and not simply because the words were penned by a relative of J.N. Andrews, Uriah Smith, or Sebastian Bach leave us star-struck and amazed. Let us end the practice of name-dropping by first dropping our own ranks and begin a pile next to the crowns.
Let us briefly experience what is like to sing out the words lost in wonder, love, and praise as people truly lost in a crowd of unclassified Christians. And then let us be okay with not trying to shepherd in sheep's clothing. And then, let us sing:
Finish, then, Thy new creation;
Pure and spotless let us be;
Let us see Thy great salvation
Perfectly restored in Thee:
Changed from glory into glory,
Till in heaven we take our place,
Till we cast our crowns before Thee,
Lost in wonder, love, and praise.
Because in the end, we are all entitled to a love divine.
Pure and spotless let us be;
Let us see Thy great salvation
Perfectly restored in Thee:
Changed from glory into glory,
Till in heaven we take our place,
Till we cast our crowns before Thee,
Lost in wonder, love, and praise.
Love Divine SDA Hymnal #191
Shortly after Chapel had commenced, the screen above the pulpit flashed a slide featuring a brief biography of the day's service provider. This week we were privileged to have a Music Director leading us in a medley of hymnal staples in lieu of a sermon-based service. His bio included his Doctorate studies as well as his official title of Pastor as he was attached to a local church through his music ministry. After briefly running through a very brief introduction to the order of the alternative service, he retreated to the organ as the church rose to its feet. And there we sang the hymn above.
In a room filled nearly to capacity with students plucked from the mission field across the world, all singing these words in unison to God above in praise. While there is nothing out of the ordinary about this scene, there is something strange about the moment outside of that which is visible or auditory. It is the presence that is a bit off, and it would not surprise me to find that I am the only one feeling this sensation in the room.
I'm not so sure we are understanding what we are singing out to God.
It was as I sang the last verse that it hit me, we are emotionally tuned to this familiar melody and reading the words directly off of the page, but there is a disconnect between what we are saying and what it is we are all doing. If we were sincere with our tuned words of praise, then what's keeping us from acting it out as well? A fellow contributor to this blog once volunteered as a choir director and explained a very similar sentiment in the following way, "If we are going to sing about our hands lifted high, we should be lifting our hands."
The choir sounded fine, the harmonies were flowing, and the church was standing in unison, but suddenly were all singing out instructions. Except no one was following the words as they arrived at our lips. I imagined for a moment a group of people singing the Hokey Pokey stock still but hitting all of the right notes along the way.
If we are to be looking forward to a day when we cast aside our crowns, our accolades, our earthly possessions, and our individualism, then what in the world are we doing beginning every service by naming the people in the room who have a degree in Theology? To introduce a person with the title of "pastor" in a room full of pastors makes very little sense. The title of pastor is a distinction best suited to provide a classification of formal settings of a religious nature as needed. But suddenly the title of pastor is being passed out to people to impress and flaunt. But when seated in a room where God has been invited to sit in on the service, our titles don't seem to hold much weight. Especially when singing out about casting out crowns with the desire to turn earthly glory into heavenly recognition, restored, pure and without spot.
For such a loud noise speaking out otherwise, we sure do seem to enjoy our spotted crowns.
There is a basic assumption that everyone in the Seminary is a Christian and a devoted member to the Gospel message. While not everyone in the room has been graced with Conference badging and not everyone has been working as the head of a church. But when a majority of the room fits the exact same category as one another, it's like walking into a crowded medical symposium in a conference hall and saying "Doctor?" out loud. Not everyone will crane their head around, but when almost everyone does turn around, it's time to be more specific.
I believe that the direction of specificity is best suited in the informal direction. I think as a group, we can all accept that anyone designated for public speaking at the pulpit for Chapel is an important person and qualified for the service in whatever regards they are placed. And if the qualification is not in question, then I believe that their first name alone is perfectly acceptable as an introduction. No need to announce that they have a degree, have worked in a church, or had a job in the mission field. You can come as you are; crowns cast aside. And from there, you can bring the word of God with you as a woman or as a man with a vision. And that will always be good enough.
Let us leave the world of credibility in the academic world if only for a moment and instead let the holy word of Adonai be lifted as the crown. Let us see the title of God be lifted higher than everything else. Let us follow the words of God's children because they lead to God and not simply because the words were penned by a relative of J.N. Andrews, Uriah Smith, or Sebastian Bach leave us star-struck and amazed. Let us end the practice of name-dropping by first dropping our own ranks and begin a pile next to the crowns.
Let us briefly experience what is like to sing out the words lost in wonder, love, and praise as people truly lost in a crowd of unclassified Christians. And then let us be okay with not trying to shepherd in sheep's clothing. And then, let us sing:
Finish, then, Thy new creation;
Pure and spotless let us be;
Let us see Thy great salvation
Perfectly restored in Thee:
Changed from glory into glory,
Till in heaven we take our place,
Till we cast our crowns before Thee,
Lost in wonder, love, and praise.
Because in the end, we are all entitled to a love divine.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Who's Afraid of the Big Bad God?
"As you come into the Chapel this morning students. Do not forget that we have invited God into this place to be with us during this time. And surely we want to hear the voice of God speaking to us. And in all likelihood we would miss God's voice if we were to be talking over Him. So please, do not talk in the Chapel as you enter into a peaceful quiet with God."
While the above quote is likely not verbatim as was spoken in Chapel, it is nearly word-for-word a recreation of the sentiment voiced to all Seminary students as they entered the mandatory Chapel service. A mandated gag-order from the highest court spoken from the lips of the professor whose primary purpose at the Seminary is to teach how to speak the Word of God to the masses.
Quiet in the Sanctuary. So as to hear the voice of God (and the voice of the prompting pastor) without interruption.
Now I was not raised in the Adventist church, and I was not taught first hand to walk softly in the Sanctuary throughout the Sabbath school ranks as a child. So maybe this is just another friendly reminder to err on the side of childhood and speak softly and reverently once you cross the threshold of the Chapel doors. But even after the not so gentle shushing from the pulpit seven minutes before the service has begun, there is still a bitter taste left in my now closed mouth. What happens to the body of Christ when we manipulate and regulate the use of its parts? In the Chapel we are informed when to sit, when to stand, when to speak, what to say ("Amen?" "Good morning church. That's not good enough, let's try that again, GOOD MORNING CHURCH" "Good is Good? All the time...", when/what to sing, when to listen, and when its all said and done, we are asked to leave to make way for a class that meets inside. But before all of this is initiated into the portion we are required to witness to maintain good standing with the University enrollment offices (and with God), remain quiet until we are ready for you.
Never mind the fact that the Seminary Worship team is busy shuffling around checking the mice, snapping off photos, the praise team is huddled on the stage reviewing notes and song ordering, the speaker is being informed of their time restraints and familiarizing themselves with the digital monitors at their legs, the radios clipped to the belts of each program director is alive and robust with conversation from the sound booth, the projection screen is being lowered into place as it coordinates with the mechanical hum of the window shades dropping over the golden windows, and over the sound of it all, the orator is verbally reminding everyone to be quiet through an amplified microphone. Just so that we can await the sound of God speaking. The Body of Christ (with the exception of the chosen t-shirted few) is now silently immobile facing forward.
Like a classroom.
Like God intended.
As a student of the Seminary scheduling from day-to-day, I recognize that my minutes are mostly full of assigned classwork, extra-curricular studying, and idle attentiveness to a professor in lecture. With the workload burdening each person enrolled in courses, one would assume that there would be time to create community among each other outside of the classroom setting. And maybe there will come a time for that later on in our educational careers, maybe I'm being too hasty to judge the situation. But I doubt it. We are required to follow countless syllabi at the demand of the professors who pen them. No phones in class, no browsing the Internet on our laptops, all eyes forward and no interruptions unless granted permission. This is the socialized norm that we all have accepted and it is upheld across the board. And within the classroom context, it makes logical sense. And so we act according to the command of the social contract.
The Chapel is a different location in my own mind and therefore the social code is in need of alteration. As busy Seminary students familiar with the sanctity of the Sanctuary and not a threat to disrupt the service with the clanging of our toy cars, messy baggies of Cheerios, obtrusive crying fits, or sliding beneath the pews on some adventure, we gather together as one Body. And that body must find its connective tissues that create stability and flexibility. We are told to do more than just study and memorize the facts we are provided in lectures. We are prompted to be close to our families and not negate our tasks as members of a unit. We donate our weekends to mandatory testing, classroom designated field trips, and the required hours of studying the textbooks and class notes to pass the quizzes and tests that await us. And all the while, we are a group of individuals from across the globe tossed into a very small space together as we boast of the greatest diversity in the United States educational system. But is that fact any more than an eye-catching blurb used to enrich enrollment numbers? If we never have the time to explore the body for what more than what it represents and recognize that it is different in places, then we are not diverse in as much as we are strangers in muted silence.
It is my view that the Chapel is a safe place for the Body of Christ to assemble and grow. And while we have invited God to share the space with us for a brief time, I also believe that we all haven been given a great gift to be more than an idle witness to the activity of God in the world. There have been countless times in which I have begun what ultimately became a shallow conversation with someone new simply because we did not have the time to do little more than cover the basic niceties before moving on again. So why not utilize the space God has provided in each person called by God who just so happens to be located in a Chapel? Why not be the voice of God as we reach out in the love of Christ to touch a stranger in the brief moments before silence is once again mandated to give right-of-way to the orator? Why not let God speak in the words of the friends we have begun to make in the safest place to make them? And why are we telling God how to speak by strapping His feet to the floor, sealing His lips, and closing His eyes?
I for one believe that we miss more of what God has to say when we pretend as if God is regulated in the silence. And if God were to speak, I'd surely want to hear what He had to say. But I don't believe that we are speaking over Him as much as we are experiencing Him in presence of His people searching after His own heart.
Maybe I am tempting the wrath of God by reaching out and touching someone after I pass into the Chapel. But maybe I'm not so afraid of the God the pastor speaks of in as much as I'm trying to experience more than a God who is more than fickle about His children fellowshipping before Him.
Who's afraid of the Big Bad God?
Not me. And so I speak...
#seminaryprayers
We've noticed some competitive praying and prayers with bad theology and so instead of complaining, I'll use these moments to remind myself to pray.
God of all people and situations, encourage me when I am discouraged in my context, remind me to give to those I think worse off, pray for those I think better off, and love those that may discourage me in the first place. Thank you for abiding with me in every situation and for gracefully rebuking me in my stubbornness and arrogance. Lord, continually remind me of the beautiful gift of your son. Amen.
God of all people and situations, encourage me when I am discouraged in my context, remind me to give to those I think worse off, pray for those I think better off, and love those that may discourage me in the first place. Thank you for abiding with me in every situation and for gracefully rebuking me in my stubbornness and arrogance. Lord, continually remind me of the beautiful gift of your son. Amen.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Stuck
Stuck: the word that can most accurately describe my Seminary experience so far. It's not that I'm stuck in a small, secluded Michigan town. It's not that I'm stuck making less money than I was when working full time. It's not even that I'm stuck going to school...again. It's that seemingly everything that happens in the Seminary is stuck. Stuck at a point in the past. Stuck in the geographical constraints of Michigander Adventism. Stuck in stagnant theology. Stuck in the issues that we address as a learning community. Professors and students relay basic, conservative theology like they're breaking new ground. Professors and students announce outdated ministerial models with fervor for the new steps they're taking, and worry about the backlash. Professors and students spend significant time discussing issues in general that I've routinely joked about as being the ridiculous hot-button issues of our denomination, thinking that most mature Adventists could not still be wrestling with them.
In one class today we spent the whole period talking about the appropriateness of sports or television on Sabbath, jewelry, kneeling versus standing in church, watching movies in theaters or at home, headship in marriage, and (I wish I was joking) modesty in colors and designs. We were stuck in an earliteen Sabbath school class. If we really are graduate students, if we are really to be trusted with the present and future of our church, and if we are really to minister in diverse contexts throughout the world then we desperately need to get unstuck. This not only should be, but must be, the place where we wrestle with tough issues, different theologies, creative worship, and diverse and new opinions on myriad subjects. The Seminary, and, in many places our church, is stuck and we are squandering one of the best opportunities to change that.
In one class today we spent the whole period talking about the appropriateness of sports or television on Sabbath, jewelry, kneeling versus standing in church, watching movies in theaters or at home, headship in marriage, and (I wish I was joking) modesty in colors and designs. We were stuck in an earliteen Sabbath school class. If we really are graduate students, if we are really to be trusted with the present and future of our church, and if we are really to minister in diverse contexts throughout the world then we desperately need to get unstuck. This not only should be, but must be, the place where we wrestle with tough issues, different theologies, creative worship, and diverse and new opinions on myriad subjects. The Seminary, and, in many places our church, is stuck and we are squandering one of the best opportunities to change that.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Monday, October 1, 2012
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